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With a braw ſnood around brow,
coats kilted to her knee
O ſhe was linking o’er the broom
for to meet with me.
For to meet. &c.
I took my true love in my arms,
ſo merry was my heart:
I ſaid, My life my lovely jewel,
my dear we’ll never part;
I ſaid, My dear; we’ll never part
until the day we die.
And ſince we’re down among the broom,
merry ſhall we be.
Merry. &c.
Hold off your hand young man, ſhe ſaid,
for it muſt not be ſo:
For little does my father,
Or yet my mother know;
For they will wonder in their mind;
what has become of me;
For they little think I’m in the broom,
talking with thee. Talking, &c.
My dady he’s a canker’d carle,
he’ll nae twiſt with his gear;
My minny ſhe’s a ſcolding wife,
D2
